


She Lays Down

by kingdomshingeki



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Family Issues, I'll add more tags as i go, M/M, Regret, but not in the way you think, i'll probably add something about christianity, might become mature?, teenage angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 14:13:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7577164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingdomshingeki/pseuds/kingdomshingeki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This is a story loosely based on my life and my friends. I hope to expand on each character and their interactions with Jean, not just the relationship that will develop between him and Marco. I want to stress the importance of friendship, especially when you're going through something difficult. A healthy relationship is a plus though. If you have questions, please direct them to my tumblr: http://papa-pavus.tumblr.com/</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a story loosely based on my life and my friends. I hope to expand on each character and their interactions with Jean, not just the relationship that will develop between him and Marco. I want to stress the importance of friendship, especially when you're going through something difficult. A healthy relationship is a plus though. If you have questions, please direct them to my tumblr: http://papa-pavus.tumblr.com/

Surprisingly, I woke up for my first class at a reasonable time. My sleep schedule from the summer was giving me a sleep deprivation hangover. Armin was already awake when I opened my eyes. It's weird seeing some random guy sitting in a bed across from mine. It's weird sleeping here at all, really. I do my typical morning routine of yawns and stretches before I take my sweet time getting myself out of my bed. If I could, I would bring my pillow to class. 

Once I stand up and my eyes focus, I realize Armin is drawing something in a small sketchbook of his. It looks like it's in the very early stages of development because I have no fucking clue what it is. A bird, maybe? He catches me staring at him and I make brief eye contact before picking up my shower tote and some clothes that were sitting at the top of my open suitcase. Awkward. 

I make my way down the steps to the first floor, where the bathrooms are. I've never showered in a communal bathroom before and I'm not really sure what to expect. Sweaty guys? Locker room atmosphere? I bet it's gonna smell like a gym in there. Before I walk in, I grab my shower shoes from my tote and slip them on. Foot fungus is not something I intend to acquire during my time here. 

The inside of the bathroom is disappointingly dull. Everything is white. The tiles, the stalls, the steam. It even seems like everyone's towels are white or some off color variation of it. There's two boys standing next to the row of sinks, one is brushing his teeth with his hand holding onto a towel that he sloppily wrapped around his waist. He must have forgot his clothes in his dorm. The other one is bent over and drying his hair with a towel. I can only see freckles sprinkled across his tan shoulders. I look down at my dark blue towel and feel slightly out of place.

Without further ado, I jump into a empty shower stall and promptly undress myself. I was pretty much naked anyway. It takes all of two seconds to take my underwear off. I wash myself quickly and efficiently. I focus mainly on my arm pits because I forgot to pick up a stick of deodorant. I hope an intense scrub will be enough to get me through the day. I dry myself and change into my classic open button down and jeans combo. Oh, and my undershirt is white. Looks like I'm starting to fit in here. I take a comb and stand in front of the mirror to brush the little knots that form on the blond tuft of hair that sits on the top of my head. Then, I brush my fingers through it to give it that perfect 'slightly disheveled' look. I return my tote, towel, and my underwear to my room and grab my already packed book bag. 

I notice that Armin is no longer sitting on his bed. Maybe I can make up for that painfully silent interaction I had with him by going through some small talk. Something like “hey, where did you go this morning?” Yes. A normal, polite conversation with Armin. I get the feeling I'm going to be carrying the bulk of all of our conversations. He strikes me as the quiet type.

Luckily, my class is not too far from my dorm. As soon as I got outside, I roll up my sleeves. It certainly doesn't feel like September. Hopefully, the left over August heat is making its final appearances. It also feels a bit muggy out. I make a mental note to stop by a store to pick up an umbrella later today. Ibuprofen, too. I need sleep, but I also need to study and have somewhat of a social life. I will force my headaches away. I carefully consider what color my umbrella will be as I walk to class. I might just buy a white one to continue the hospital vibe I was feeling when I took a shower. I humor myself at my school's expense. They can live with it because I will have paid enough tuition to purchase a sports car by the end of this.

Once I enter the foreign language department, I begin to search for the door labeled 'French 101.' The search didn't last long because it was the first door on the right on the first floor. My high school only offered Spanish and it was required in order to graduate. I took it for four years and I still cannot form a proper sentence. Spanish isn't exactly my cup of tea. I didn't even want to try to test out of Spanish, so I signed up for French to embrace my French roots. I took a seat by the edge of the room, secluded from most of the other students. This is somewhat of a difficult task because the class is so small. I think the student to professor ratio is like 10:1? Something like that. 

Then, I see a familiar face walk in. Well, kind of familiar. It's that kid from the bathroom. The one that was brushing his teeth. He has a shaved head and his skin is lightly tanned. He's wearing mix matched pajamas and a bright green scarf. Why is he dressed like that? It's at least eighty-five degrees out. He takes the chair next to me and gives me a sideways glance. He looks like he doesn't want to talk very much, but I feel like I should at least attempt conversation because he did walk all the way to the other side of the room to specifically sit next to me. 

I'm struggling to say anything significant, but all I could come up with was “Aren't you hot?” He turns to me with a smug smile and replies “Yes, thank you for noticing.” His voice is deep and sleepy, like he just woke up. However, I know that's not the case because I saw him earlier this morning. There's a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Did you shave your head so you could compensate for your strange preference in summer clothing?” I ask him, half joking. Most kids my age would want to keep their hair. “Yes, that's exactly what I did. I cut all of my hair off and I sold it so I could afford to wear so many layers of clothes everyday,” he responds sarcastically. He hesitates before changing the topic. “Haven't I seen you before? Are you a freshman?” Ah, yes. I think I'm going to be getting that question a lot. “Actually, yes. To both of those questions. Jean,” I say, sticking my hand out, “I saw you in the bathroom this morning.” He gives me a handshake that's not entirely firm nor weak. His palm isn't sweaty, but very warm. He grins, but even I can tell it's fake.

His name is Connie. Connie seems like a very tired man. He expresses he isn't a morning person and apologizes for what must seem like a lack of interest in our conversation. “I've never met a morning person in my entire life,” I say. Except maybe for Armin. Not quite sure if he is a morning person. Oh, and my sisters. Okay, so I do know a few people who enjoy the early hours of the day, but I'm not about to tell him that. He smiles warmly and genuinely this time. I attempt to smile back, but I must look like happy expressions don't fit my face because he chuckles at me. 

I feel like I haven't done this in months.


	2. Suburbia

French was one of the most uneventful experiences of my entire life. Our professor was balder than Connie. He handed us a syllabus, told us which page to look at, then ranted about the essential minerals every human needs. I'm pretty sure it's impossible to be any weirder. Maybe it's the air, but the people here are very strange. I wonder if I'll end up like them. Then, I decide that I wouldn't mind that.

As I walk through campus, I think about Connie. He seemed like an alright guy, but I don't know if I can keep up with his banter. I'm too slow to be witty. That's why I was a little intimidated when he asked me if I wanted to hang out with him later. He even said he would introduce me to a few of his friends, which didn't really help at all. He practically forced me into pinky promising. I can't tell if he's even serious about this. All he did in class was joke, despite only knowing my name. Maybe he's somehow making fun of me? It could be a prank or something.

I opened the door to my room and I immediately feel better when I see my bed. This place was extremely foreign when I made an attempt to sleep here, but now it feels like home. I set my bag down and I see Armin on his bed again. This time, he has a book. “Hey, Armin,” I say, “where did you go this morning?” Wow, I actually remembered to ask him this. He looks up at me and points to an empty cup on his desk. “I went to get some coffee.” His sketchbook is sitting right next to his cup and I couldn't help but look at the page it was turned to. He notices I'm staring. “You can look at it if you want. I know most people don't share their drawings with strangers, but you're my roommate so I know you'll see it eventually,” he pauses before continuing, “unless you want to sleep. You look exhausted.” Both offers are tempting, but my curiosity has won me over.

When I pick the book up, the first thing I see is the page he was working on earlier today. It wasn't a bird, but a half drawn ocean. I walk over to Armin's bed before going any further. “You mind?” I ask, as I gesture to the spot next to him. “I don't mind,” he quietly responds. I sit next to him, maybe a little too close for his comfort. I scoot away a little to make him feel better. I turn to the next page, only to be met with another picture of an ocean. This one is more complete and it looks better than anything I could ever produce. Waves are crashing over rocks and seashells scattered everywhere. There are seagulls flying overhead in the distance while the sun beams on.

“Why the oceans?” I ask. He thinks about his answer for a moment. “My parents and I lived on the beach for most of my life. It's weird being away from it. Drawing the ocean makes me feel better. It reminds me of my parents and my home.” He's smiling so widely, it makes me feel good to know he had a stable family life and a beach house. “Is that why you wear that?” I ask, pointing to the seashell necklace around his neck. “Yes,” he responds, fidgeting with the shell in his hand. “Where did you grow up, Jean?” he asks me. He seems to be genuinely interested in what I'm going to say. This is just a general small talk question, so I shouldn't have a problem answering it.

“I grew up south from here. About two hours away. When I was a kid, I lived in a small town. I moved around a lot though, so I ended up going to an urban high school. We mostly stayed in a relative area.” I have a pretty boring backstory. I definitely wouldn't be the main character in a book or TV show. “I bet you've seen some wonderful things,” he says. The first thing that comes to mind is my mother's face. “Yes, I have,” is all I could manage. 

I turned my attention back to Armin's drawings. The next page wasn't an ocean and I felt a little relieved to be honest. I don't want to talk about home anymore. This time, it was a sketch of himself in sort of a cartoon-y style. It was cute. “Self portrait, huh?” I poke at his side and smile. My face feels wrong somehow. “Haha, yeah. Not my best work,” he says, embarrassed. 

“Say, what are you going to major in anyway, Armin?” I had never asked him, but it's pretty obvious he's going into art with drawings like these. “That's a good question. I'm probably going to go into architecture. I think my parents would be disappointed if I was a full blown art student.” How cliché, but I have no room to speak. “What about you Jean?” he asks, eyeing me carefully. It's like he knows I was judging him. “I'm undecided, but psychology interests me. You have to go through a lot of school to actually make money in that field. I don't know if I can afford it. I'm going to stay undecided for a while.” It seems like we're both too timid to do what we want.

I talk to Armin for a few more minutes, but I can barely keep my eyes open anymore. I excused myself as politely as I could, then flopped down on my bed. I have mixed emotions about sleeping because I hate feeling tired, but I often have nightmares. I probably should have told Armin that before going to bed in case I wake up and freak him out, but I really don't want to move. 

If I'm lucky, I'll dream of an ocean without drowning in it.


End file.
